Lynda Robinson - Slayer of Gods

Anath’s gaze fastened on him, and she raised her eyebrows in inquiry.

Meren sighed. “He babbled something about the one who killed him. Yamen said his killer would destroy me as he had him, that all perish who threaten him. He said no one else knew the killer like he did. A familiar refrain. I’ve heard such claims before from the companions of men of great evil. I hope he wasn’t right, or I’ll never find the bastard.”

Anath shoved away from the tree trunk. Head down, hands clasped behind her back, she walked in a circle without speaking. Then she stopped and looked directly at him.

“Let me think for a while. I might remember something about these men that will help. You’ve looked at the royal records and questioned the queen’s former servants, I take it.”

“Those that are still alive. Some are dead. There is no record of what became of many others. With the passage of time many moved around and the royal records don’t show where they went. That’s what happened with the queen’s guard, Sebek.”

“Of course.”

Anath resumed her slow walk. Meren got up and brushed himself off.

“I have it!” Anath exclaimed.

“What?”

“On your way to Syene stop at Horizon of the Aten and look at the records there.”

“Horizon of the Aten is almost completely abandoned. Many of the brick buildings are falling apart.”

“But outdated records were left behind in places like the overseers’ offices, the royal granaries, and the office of the king’s correspondence. I know where a lot of things were kept. I was there often enough. I’ll come with you and help you look in the right places.”

“I can find them myself,” Meren said. “After I see Sebek.”

“If I go with you, we can stop on the way to Syene because it won’t take as long to search.”

“I don’t want to take the time.”

Anath rolled her eyes. “You can’t be certain whether it’s more important to see Sebek or find records at Horizon of the Aten. If you’re worried about him, send someone to Syene to guard him until you can talk to him.”

“I don’t see why-”

“Ha!” Anath clapped her hands together. “Now I remember. I knew there was something important about going to Horizon of the Aten. Do you remember old Hapimen, chief scribe of the office of royal records? I used to visit him at his work because he had an assistant, a former slave who could read and write. I would practice my foreign languages by conversing with him while he worked.” She drew nearer Meren, her eyes gleaming. “Do you know what he worked on? The queen’s correspondence. And I remember where he kept his records, and where he dumped the notes he took when he no longer needed them.”

Hesitating, Meren weighed Anath’s words.

“We can stop at Horizon of the Aten, pick up the records, and be on our way in a few hours. If we find any important documents we can return on our way back to Memphis.”

Meren paced, weighing the risk of delay. “Very well, but if you’re coming with me, you’d better wear Egyptian clothing. I’m trying to keep this inquiry a secret, and it won’t help if you parade around looking like the goddess Ishtar and call attention to our movements.”

Anath planted her fists on her hips again and surveyed him. “Meren, you’re dressed in the finest linen Egypt can produce, wearing a gold and carnelian headband and an electrum signet ring. If you aim to move about without attracting notice, you’re going to fail.”

“I mean I don’t wish to provoke curiosity and suspicion.”

“Then you should never have become the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.”

Meren smiled slightly. “My dear Anath, I didn’t have a choice.”

Meren lay on his bed with his eyes closed. He wasn’t asleep, but he needed to rest. Anath had left soon after their conversation and he’d spent the rest of the day consulting with Kysen. His son would continue to prowl the foreign district in disguise hoping to pick up more information on their suspects. Kysen also would conduct the affairs of the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh during Meren’s absence. The king had given his consent to this arrangement last year when it became clear that Meren’s son would make an excellent successor to his confidential inquiry agent.

Bener had tried to convince Meren to delay his journey, and now she was supervising the preparation of the evening meal, grumbling all the while. Meren shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position that wouldn’t cause his side to ache. On the floor beside the bed lay several letters. One was from his eldest daughter, Tefnut, who was about to have her first child. He planned to visit her and Isis, his youngest daughter, who was living with Tefnut. A few months ago Isis had nearly gotten her father killed through her selfish conduct, and the shame of it had forced the girl to see herself clearly for the first time. Isis wore her shame like a cloak of thorns, and Meren often worried about her.

Another letter was from Meren’s brother, whom everyone called Ra. It consisted of a plea for Meren to rescue him from creditors, yet again. Ra had wagered a valuable field on his estate in a chariot race, which he lost. Without the field, his estate couldn’t produce enough grain to support itself. The letter brimmed with protestations of reform, with promises of prompt repayment, and grand plans for future riches once his debts were paid. Meren didn’t finish reading the letter. He had half a dozen similar ones; none had resulted in reform or repayment.

The sun had dropped low enough to shine into the windows, and Meren covered his eyes with his forearm. He was thinking about his brother when he felt his skin prickle, and he sensed another presence in the room. Without moving, Meren tensed his muscles and listened. He heard something brush against the sheers hanging from the frame around the bed, twisted and dropped to the floor while he groped for the dagger that always lay beneath the bed. As he moved he caught sight of a dark figure against the pale curtains and froze.

“Karoya!” Meren remained crouched on the floor, the dagger aimed at the Nubian before him while he fought the rush of sensation caused by alarm and battle readiness. Then he lowered his blade. “Damnation. Must you sneak into my bedchamber like that?”

“The Golden One commands the presence of the Eyes of Pharaoh.”

Meren rose and dropped the dagger on the bed. “Just because you’re the chief royal bodyguard doesn’t mean you must go about frightening everyone the king wishes to see.”

Stately, impassive, and as tall as an obelisk, Karoya ignored Meren’s complaint. “The living Horus has sent a chariot for you.” Turning on his heel, he left the bedchamber without waiting to see if Meren was behind him.

It was nearly sunset when Meren followed Karoya through antechambers and reception halls, the cavernous throne room, and more antechambers of the royal palace until he came to the king’s suite. Rows of guards stretched to either side of the gilded doors through which Karoya vanished, and Meren waited there, studying the glazed tiles in the lotus frieze along the walls of the antechamber. Lamplight cast wavering shadows across the impassive faces of the guards. Meren nodded at the captain, a man known for his valor in battle. The captain saluted him and spoke quietly.

“The lord is well?”

“It was only one arrow, Yuf.”

“We thank Amun for protecting you, lord.”

Meren inclined his head, glancing at the others in Yuf’s company. “Your concern honors me.”

Suddenly the gilded doors swung wide, and a young woman swept through them. Clad in a shift and transparent pleated overrobe, she gleamed with electrum and precious stones. A braided wig framed her face with its pointed chin and gazelle’s eyes. She moved with stately confidence, and her heavy jewels clicked together as she walked. She paused when she saw Meren, who bowed low before her.